Scribbles
by Silly Sentry
Summary: Feeling bitter and practically bored to tears, Meg finds an angel scribbling on her arm with colorful, non-toxic markers. Megstiel oneshot; Set during Season 7, between Reading is Fundamental and Survival of the Fittest.


Shrouding the blackness beneath, a pair of hazel eyes lethargically trailed across the letters of a gossip-filled magazine. As per usual, Meg lost herself in the indulgence of pop culture-centric magazines, their words empty and fake, yet so tempting to read onward. In the ears of the body she so proudly claimed sat two earbuds, spilling out rock 'n roll and dampening the rest of the outside world. Hospitals were pretty damn _boring_ - she'd never gotten the chance to fully recognize this until now.

Days crept by without the contact of the Winchesters. To think they loved their _angel boyfriend_ so much, yet they didn't even have the time to properly pay visits. Always so wishy-washy with those two.

This left Meg to deal with Castiel, who was _way_ off his rocker. As far as Meg was concerned, he'd jumped off his metaphorical _rocker_ and fell head-first into the concrete.

It had gotten to the point where the loony angel had started _depending_ on Meg, in fact, like she was some kind of _thorny savior_. Sure, it was sweet, but it was more so _sickeningly sweet_ than anything. Meg had never been the caretaker type before, and she certainly wasn't going to become so out of the blue. She was in the whole thing for her own benefit, not Castiel's, regardless of how disgustingly cute the feather-brained entity behaved.

Oh, how Meg refused to admit to herself that she was growing fond of the dumbass. His stupid little quirks, his newfound innocence that seemed to pop out of _the-devil-knows-where_, all of it so, daresay… _endearing_.

Yet, the female demon knew not to grow attached. In fact, she only took the time to tend to the cloudhopper when he absolutely needed it. This was either spawned from his plain boredom, or his odd compulsions to obliterate every lamp in the room for his own amusement. How that angel worked was an enigma in itself.

Attention shifted from inner contemplations back to the gossip of celebrity's lives. _This famous actress got married to that famous musician. This lady got pregnant, that kid won the lottery. _All a bunch of information that didn't at all correlate with Meg's life. Yet, it served as a great distraction to the occasional worry that crept up in the demon's mind.

_Worry, worry…_ This was yet another reason Meg chose to stay at the hospital with Castiel. He may have been broken, but he was still a being of celestial intent, and that was just what Meg needed - she needed _protection_ from her inevitable fate. The demoness knew all to well what she had done; she'd rebelled from Hell - practically held out a picket sign that screamed her distaste for the pit's newest ruler.

_Ugh_. Words couldn't even _begin_ to touch how much distaste she had for the new, self-proclaimed _King of Hell_. Crowley was a _crossroads demon, _of all things, certainly nothing destined to be a proper leader. That was Lucifer's job, and his only; Crowley was nothing but a disgrace. Hell, if Meg ever got her hands on Crowley, she'd show him a lifetime of pain…

A soft disturbance interrupted Meg's flow of hateful, resentful thought. Cold, small, soft, almost _damp_ surfaces trailing along the pale skin of her meatsuit. The gentle disturbances worked their way to her arm, making various patterns and circular motions. Meg's head immediately snapped to the source of these sensations, a menacing glare present on her facial expression.

That was, until she realized what was causing these bizarre little feelings.

"_Oh_, it's _you_."

Meg's virulent glare softened, quick to translate into a gawk. The response she received, however, was much less aggressive.

"Hello, Meg." a gleaming, guileless grin greeted the vexed demon.

A dark eyebrow raised with curiosity, evidently dumbfounded by the angel's actions, "The hell are you doing to my arm, Clarence?"

"Can I ask that you hold still?" sapphire eyes, pleading in an almost childlike manner, gazed into Meg's sepia oculars.

Meg rolled her eyes, forcing herself to be tolerant of the angel's scatterbrained actions.

_How far are you willing to go to put up with him, Meg?_

Attention reluctantly turned back to the flow of pop culture and rock music, which still invaded her mind in attempts to placate her. Boy, did she try hard to avoid snapping at that celestial featherduster.

However, Meg couldn't keep her focus on the aimless distractions for very long. Mere seconds later, she admitted defeat to distracting herself, closing the booklet and resting it on her lap. Earbuds were just as soon ripped from her ears, falling to her lap as well as they continued to stream music to nobody.

"Cut that out!" Meg yanked her free arm away from the angel's sensations, glare focused on what he had done to her.

…

"…Seriously, Clarence? Seriously?"

All along the left arm of her vessel was a display of… _scribbles_ - lines curling around and intersecting each other. Said lines were thick, colorful, ranging from red to whatever else was part of the spectrum, and altogether ridiculous. Some lines were in shapes that almost resembled bees, others loosely bore resemblance to flowers and what might have been grass. Most of it was illegible, however, and looked like a bunch of awful scribbles and smiling stick figures.

A wide grin was present on Castiel's face when Meg shifted her gaze to him.

"Do you like it?" the angel responded questioningly, placing a cap on one of his many colorful, non-toxic markers. He'd probably taken the things from the day room.

"What _is_ it?" Meg examined her arm further, not able to form any logical ideas as to why he'd scribble all over her.

Castiel gave yet another idiotic smile as he let his extended index finger point to Meg's arm. His finger hovered over one of the stick figures,

"This is me." the angel explained, a note of pride almost audible in his voice.

Meg gave no response, simply watched as she awaited further explanation.

The angel's finger soon moved to the stick figure standing to the right; this stick figure had long hair and a mischievous-looking grin on its hastily scrawled face.

…Was that supposed to be her?

"Yeah, and who's that?" Meg inquired before the angel received a chance to explain his _'art'_.

A soft, almost loopy-sounding chuckle escaped the stubbly angel's lips, "You. That is you, Meg."

Meg fought back the strong urge to remark how _adorable_ the scribble was. No, she had to remain tough and indifferent about everything. There wasn't any way she'd coo over how cute the stupid thing was. _No way_.

Refraining from showing as much open affection as Castiel was, Meg merely gave a detached reply.

"Hmm - and what are those things in the background?" Meg inquired as her right hand motioned to the colorful blobs all around the pair of stick figures.

"Flowers," the cloudhopper did not hesitate in the slightest to respond, "To be more specific, roses, dandelions - oh, and clovers. Clovers attract the bees."

Meg cocked an eyebrow at such description, forcing herself to not act _too_ aggressive around the angel; she didn't want to hurt his feelings with her thorny disposition.

"I see that now," Meg replied nonchalantly, "that's… _interesting_."

Apparently, Castiel was not at all deterred by the female demon's lack of enthusiasm. In fact, he was so undeterred that he completely changed the subject, his mind likely deviating from what the two were already conversing about.

"Have you ever eaten fresh clover honey?" the celestial being asked the demonic entity, "It's very flavorful. I'm going to get some for you."

Castiel appeared as if he was about to teleport - vanish into thin air, literally, but Meg quickly put a hand on his shoulder, "Focus, Clarence."

The broken angel's gaze trailed up to Meg's features, a look of foolish curiosity on his face as he silently gazed into her eyes.

Meg motioned back to the drawing her left arm, pointing toward something that caught her attention for the past few moments.

"What are these supposed to be?" Meg demanded, drawing her tattooed arm closer to Castiel so he could get a better look at what he'd done.

Cas merely tilted his head, appearing to be vaguely confused, "What?"

"_These_." Meg urged, indicating the small, pink objects floating above the stick figure duo in the doodle.

The meatsuit that Castiel occupied seemed to back away in a graceful stupor, emitting a soft chortle. A demanding glance was given by the demoness, trying to find the meaning behind such shapes.

_Hearts_. They were shaped like _hearts_, which as far as Meg knew, symbolized…

…No, she wasn't going to think about that. Nope, totally not thinking of what she was thinking of.

The broken angel hesitated to respond, standing tall and stepping a few feet back, away from the female.

A few moments of silence passed until he finally responded, explaining the meaning behind the rosy blobs he'd drawn.

"_Love_."

…That was it. He said it. He goddamn said it - dropped the _L-bomb_ as if it was something casual, like saying hello to a friendly neighbor. That was _**the**__ word._

"…I will return shortly. I am going to obtain the honey now."

Meg did not receive a chance to properly respond before the angel vanished within thin air, just like that. Just like nothing had even happened. Alone sat the demon now, _the_ word still ringing and echoing through her mind.

Rosy lips curled into the smallest smile as the demon sat beside the empty hospital bed, all life-forces in the room gone, save for her. Certainly, she didn't _feel_ alone, however, as that very thought of that very word kept her company.

_Those damn cloudhoppers._


End file.
